


Triffid Full Moon

by Trisor (Firebog)



Series: Triffid Castiel and His Werewolf Friends [1]
Category: Supernatural, The Day of the Triffids - John Wyndham
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Extremely Dubious Consent, Interspecies Awkwardness, It's more of a misunderstanding, Other, Triffid Castiel, Weird Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firebog/pseuds/Trisor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Read the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triffid Full Moon

Castiel had swung and stumped and tumbled his way across treacherous uneven grounds - his great stalk swinging back and forth - to freedom. Like so many of his siblings he'd spent his youth staked to the ground in that terrible sun drenched place surrounded by wire and bricks when all he'd wanted was some shade and a good hiding spot to lay in wait for dinner.

But he was a free plant now. He'd never go back. His terrible captors had all died in the great escape. Some of his siblings had stayed behind to eat them in a final act of revenge but Castiel knew that where there was one human there were always more. Maybe they had killed their captors and escaped their prison but sooner or later more humans would come with their horrible knives and cut off their stalks and drain their bodies of vital fluids for whatever horrible grotesque thing humans did with it.

At least triffids had the courtesy to kill their prey before eating it. Humans kept them alive for years while slowly draining them.

Not that Castiel was speciesist. There were probably _some_ good humans but he'd never met one.

So Castiel swung his spindly legs back and forth and kept his stalk ready to defend himself while he went in search for a new home safely away from humans. He kept up his pace all day until the rattling patter of his siblings was a whisper in the distance. He found a quiet place to hide for the night and settled in. Resting as a free plant felt more peaceful than any time he'd rested for the night staked to the ground.

Castiel spent days searching for place to fit into the world. He'd thought maybe he had found the perfect spot one day, there was even small prey nearby that had been easily stung, but then humans came with knives and poles and tried to beat him to pieces. He rattled his speaking sticks at them, telling them in length about how deadly he could be, but the humans kept trying to stab him and tear his stalk off. In the end he'd had no choice but to sting them until they stopped. He fled the scene before more humans could come.

He hid after that. He kept to uneven ground and dense undergrowth. The humans built very nice pathways for triffids but they guarded them jealously. He swung his spindles for days and days until he came upon the scent of rot. He rattled and waited. No triffid answered. He was all alone.

He followed the smell until finally one spindle landed in rotting flesh. He shivered with joy. He hadn't eaten in days. He rattled his sticks wildly, telling every triffid in the area about the feast he'd found, before he remembered he was alone. His stalk drooped. What sort of freedom was it where he was all alone?

He settled himself into the rotting flesh and started tearing meat up to drop into his gullet until it was fat and full. He shivered and rattled in contentment. He had food for weeks, the shade was just right, and from the kiss of moisture on his leaves he was sure that there was a stream nearby.

Everything was perfect, if a little lonely, until the humans came again.

It was early in the evening when he heard a loud bang like a seed pod exploding. Then he felt them, thundering over the ground in huge noisy steps, coming right for him. He was always amazed that their spindles could reach so far without breaking.

From the noise he thought there were two. He furled his leaves against himself, hiding the most obvious flamboyant parts of him. He stayed perfectly still. He was loathed to give up such a perfect spot. Maybe if he stayed still they'd pass him by.

A huge piece of cloth was thrown at him, several more followed. There was a thump nearby. He rattled his sticks menacingly at them, saying all manner of terrible threats. Most were exaggerated but they didn't know that his stinger was only seven feet long. Better if they thought he was one of his more terrifying cousins that came from the tropics that reach as far as ten feet, twelve with a good swing to their stalk.

The humans stopped. Castiel rattled out more threats. And then the most curious thing happened. One of the humans rattled back!

It was utter nonsense but it was a friendly sort of rattle. Castiel paused his own rattling. The human let out another friendly rattle. Slowly Castiel pattered out questions. What did these humans want? There was more than enough of this wonderful feast to share.

The human rattled another nonsensical phrase. Castiel wondered if maybe like some of his older siblings this human had had it's speech sticks maimed by other humans— it seemed like the sort of extreme violence a human might do. One could never trust them.

It came closer, still rattling. Castiel coiled up his stalk, ready to sting. It dropped something down at his spindles. It rattled again and backed away. Castiel hesitated. He nudged the thing at his base with a spindle. It didn't move. He slowly uncoiled his stalk and reached down. He rattled in surprise. The human had left him meat! It wasn't rotted enough yet to eat but given a few days it would perfect.

Castiel rattled off his thanks. He reached down and picked up a strip of meat that had aged to just the right amount of rot and reached out to the human. The rattling stopped but it started shivering in joy. Castiel tried to find the human's gullet but no matter which way he felt he couldn't seem to find it. Finally the human reached out and took the meat from him. It took the meat so fast Castiel had no time to figure out where it had put it but it shivered in joy.

Castiel brushed up against it, surprised that it was so flat. Seeding season wasn't for another few months but this human didn't have any seed pods. Castiel realized the bang he heard earlier must have been the human shooting its seeds up into the wind. That was odd too. It was almost night. Nobody seeded at night. He dragged his stalk up the length of the human. It was rather short but most humans seemed rather short. Humans were strange. Too short and seeding at night. No wonder they were always so quick to anger. They probably had a much harder time propagating the next generation.

He swept his stalk down and came across one sad limp speech stick. No wonder it couldn't talk. It probably could just barely manage to rattle its stick against its spindles. It shivered its pleasure again. Castiel rattled back sympathy at how terribly its own kind had maimed it. Its one sad stick reached up as if trying to rattle against its lost partners. Castiel dragged his stalk against it in a sorrowful parody of speech. It didn't rattle at all, it seemed too overwhelmed with joy that anyone would want to touch it's cruel disfigurement.

Then the human made a strange human noise, its last speech stick twitched, and then the human fell backwards out of Castiel's reach.

Castiel listened to the two humans hurrying away at those incredibly fast speeds they managed. He sat in the dark and waited to see if they were going to come back with knives or if they were as friendly as they seemed.

\---

Meg couldn't stop laughing. Dean kept scowling at her. Meg laughed harder. Meg finally caught her breath. She spread her hands out in front of her like she was reading a movie poster. "Dean, the triffid whisperer." She snorted. "No, wait, triffid X: wolves gone wild."

"It's not funny." Dean grumbled.

"You got jerked off by a triffid." Meg retorted.

Sam jogged up the path to them, stuffing his clothes into his backpack. "What?" He passed the backpack over to Meg.

Meg started stripping down. "There's this triffid back there." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Dean sighed in defeat.

"And mister _Schenkel was a genius_ here thought he'd commune with the vegetable beasts _'alpha to alpha'_." Meg laughed, as she kicked her pants off. God, she needed a chest cam or something to document all the ridiculous things Dean found himself in the middle of. Leave it to Dean to stumble onto a hunter only to try and dump the body on top of a triffid eating a rotting bear.

Sam frowned at Dean. "What were you thinking? Triffids are dangerous. They eat people."

Meg snorted. " _We_ eat people." She stuffed her clothes into the backpack.

Sam waved dismissively. He opened his mouth, clearly ready to keep on keepin' on with his over concerned Winchester habits, but then slowly closed his mouth and frowned. He turned to Meg. "Wait, did you say he...?" Sam mimed being jerked off. "On a triffid?"

"Who did what on a triffid?" Ruby asked, as she joined them on the path.

"Dean got frisky with a triffid." Meg said. She handed the bag over to Ruby.

"What?" Ruby laughed in disbelief. She unzipped her hoodie and shrugged out of it.

"Oh my god." Dean whined. "It wasn't on purpose."

"Why were you already naked?" Sam interjected.

"That hunter followed us up here. We had a bit of a disagreement about who was going to kill who." Dean said. He waved his hand down the front of himself where there was still smears of blood. "Obviously I won."

"Obviously." Meg rolled her eyes. "The hunter fell on his own gun and shot himself in the chest with his own silver bullet."

"Because I tripped him." Dean said loftily. "Anyway, my clothes were torn up and bloody so I ditched them early."

"Onto a triffid." Meg added.

"...so wait...there's a dead guy back there?" Ruby asked, clearly her priorities were straight. "Didn't anyone get the heart?"

Meg shook her head. "The shot pulverized it into a mess."

Ruby huffed in disappointment.

"I don't get how we went from a hunter shoots himself." Sam said. Dean made a disgruntled noise and muttered about how he was the one who tripped him. Sam ignored him. "To Dean jerked off onto a triffid."

" _By_ a triffid." Meg corrected.

" _By_ the triffid?" Ruby asked as she stuffed her clothes into the bag.

"Yep. Dean's just special that way." Meg cackled. "He can really commune with nature. I bet his inner wolf is really in tune with the earth."

"Seriously. It wasn't funny. It was terrifying." Dean objected.

Meg sighed. "Alright, so it wouldn't have been funny if it had, I dunno, stung your dick or something." She shrugged. "But come on. You grabbed those sticks and rattled back at it and it tried to feed you. I bet you were doing a triffid mating call."

Dean went back to scowling at her. He took the bag from Ruby and shouldered it. He shot a side long glance at Meg. "You're probably just jealous anyway."

"Jealous?" Meg repeated. "Of what? Your vegetable boyfriend?"

"Maybe it was a girl triffid." Dean said in mock seriousness. 

"Actually triffids are androgynous. They have complete flowers." Sam said. "Each plant is male and female."

"Nerd." Meg and Dean chorused together.

Sam pouted at them. "Come on. The moon's going to rise in half an hour and I don't want to shift with a triffid nearby."    

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it was coldest hits again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that these go from strange sports fan wedding to polar bear diving to accidental sex with a triffid with terrible in poor taste jokes about it. I'm sorry it's come to this.


End file.
